


Rave On

by endemictoearth



Series: Rave AU [1]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Rave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endemictoearth/pseuds/endemictoearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rae goes back to Finn's the night of the rave, but things don't go according to his plans. Based on an Anonymous Tumblr prompt: "Hey, what if Rae and Finn did go back to his place after the rave? Rae is a little wasted and even tho Finn saw her kiss Archie he still looked after her and took her back home?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rave On

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t sure if I was going to do this at first, because this is pretty well covered territory in our little fanfic universe, but I had an idea I thought was original enough to not tread on anyone’s brilliant stories and retellings.

She ran out into the night, leaving the pulsing music and flashing lights of the rave behind her. The cool air calmed her a little. She wanted to fade into the darkness of the sky, and the ecstasy coursing through her veins made her believe if she ran just a little faster, she could lift off and float up into the dark ether. Unfortunately, instead of floating, she face-planted. Tripped over a plastic cup and slammed into the turf. 

The taste of grass in her mouth was the last thing she was aware of before she passed out. 

* * * 

A moment ago, his lips had been on Chloe’s, but something made him turn his head. He saw the flash of Rae’s sequined back as she ran out of the place. Then, he noticed Archie staggering around near the bar. He looked back at Chloe, who wore a quizzical look on her face, lips still slightly pursed, ready in case he wanted to resume proceedings. 

“I-I’m jus’ goin’ to get a drink. I’ll–” He didn’t want to promise he’d be back, because he wasn’t sure he would be. He just nodded his head and waved a hand lamely as he walked away. Chloe looked after him, confused, but said, “Okay, see you in a bit?” to his retreating figure.

He thought about asking Archie where Rae had gone, and why, but decided to just look for her outside. His buzz was definitely wearing off, and he wiped roughly at his mouth to get rid of the lip gloss that he was now wearing. Kissing Chloe was a prime example of action without thought. She had been there; he was drunk and hurt. Instead of dealing with why he was hurt, he just didn’t move his head away when Chloe’s lips pushed against his. It was easy to kiss back once she’d started things going.

He crunched across the gravel carpark looking for Rae, but she wasn’t there. His eyes took a moment to adjust as he crossed into the darkness of the grounds surrounding the grand house. He looked up at a sky filled with more stars than he remembered seeing in years. How often did he gaze up at the stars these days?

Shaking his head, he cast his glance around for Rae and spotted a couple of those glow in the dark necklaces on the ground. When he got closer, he could see Rae’s shiny jacket sparkling dimly in the near complete darkness of the garden. His heart contracted in his chest. Was she okay? His second, more annoying, thought was, why the fuck hadn’t Archie followed her to make  _sure_  she was okay? The two of them had seemed pretty bloody close an hour ago. 

As he knelt to check she was still breathing, she let out a low moan and then said, “Finn, no!” He jumped back at her words, but soon realized there was no way she could tell it was him. She must be dreaming. Or drunk. Or worse. He knew she was alive, so he set about trying to get her upright. He couldn’t let her sleep it off face down in the grass.

He turned her onto her side as gently as he could manage, but soon realized he’d need help. He’d seen Chop run off god knows where after Izzy kissed that scumbag drug dealer. Undoubtedly, he had his keys with him, and Finn couldn’t strand the others, anyway. And they couldn’t go back they way they had come, on his bike. He would have had to tie her arms in a knot around his waist and bolt her feet to the frame, which seemed a little drastic.

There was nothing for it. He would have to call his dad.

* * *

Back inside the rave, he was single-minded in his mission to find a phone. He hopped over the chain across the foot of the staircase inside the entrance that said “Closed to Public” and took the stairs two at a time. He looked both ways down the hallway and saw a light on down the right side. When he got closer, he saw a doorway marked “Office” and tried the handle. It opened. 

A middle-aged man with a ponytail sat facing away from him, reading a magazine. “He-hello?” Finn said nervously. The man spun around in his swivel chair, a mix of surprise and anger on his face. 

“What the hell are you doin’ up here?” he demanded.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just … my friend passed out in the garden and we came here on my bike and I can’t … Can I use your phone to call me dad?” The words flooded out of him. He was a little nervous that Rae might have woken up and bolted again, but couldn’t imagine her rousing from her present stupor anytime soon. 

The bloke shook his head in exasperation. “I told them this would happen if we rented the place out for a rave. More goddamn trouble than it’s worth.” He waved Finn over to the desk. “Make it quick.”

Finn had no idea what time it was, but figured it must be pretty late, because the phone rang six times before he heard his dad groan, “Yer alrigh’?” into the phone.

“Hiya, Dad. Yeah, I’m alrigh’, but Rae’s had a bit too much. I don’t think I can bring her home on the scooter. I hate ta drag ya outta bed at this hour, but do ya think ya could pick us up?” He felt bad, but his dad had told him enough stories about getting shit-faced at concerts back in the ‘70’s that Finn knew he understood. Jesus, the number of times he’d heard about that fucking Status Quo concert. His dad practically owed him this.

Finn listened to his father’s long inhale of breath and even longer groan. Then, “Yeah, no problem. Gimme twenty minutes or so." 

"Thanks, Dad!” He replaced the receiver and mumbled a grateful noise at the man behind the desk before sprinting out the door, down the hall, down the stairs, and back out to where he’d reluctantly left Rae. He realized he could have found Archie or Chloe or Izzy to watch Rae while he made his call, but somehow he didn’t want to involve anyone else in this operation. Other people were always getting in the way and mucking things up; he just wanted to get her back to his house and tuck her into those stupid sheets his dad had ironed, give her time sleep it off and talk to her in the morning. Actually  _talk_ , not this dumb dance they had been leading each other for the past few weeks.

Finn found Rae where he’d left her. She’d curled into a fetal position while he was on his mission, and he wished she didn’t look so adorable. Because she’d just been kissing Archie, hadn’t she? So, why was he the one out here, figuring out how to get her home and safe? Why wasn’t Archie out here, brushing the hair out of her face and checking she was still breathing every minute? Finn fought the urge to leave Rae once again, in order to find Archie and smash those glasses into his face. 

He was distressingly sober by the time headlights flashed through the manicured trees half an hour later. He hopped up and jogged over to his dad’s car. 

“Hey, Dad. Sorry 'bout all this,” Finn said apologetically.

“Not a problem, son,” John said. “Much rather ya call me than tryna make it home on yer own and somethin’ bad 'appen.” He looked into his son’s bloodshot eyes. “D'ya need help gettin’ Rae in the car?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, d'ya mind? She’s really out of it. I saw her take somethin’, but she’s breathin’ alright. I don’t think we need to take 'er to hospital.” He silently prayed to the universe that they didn’t.

John swung open his door, coughing out the lungful of cool night air he’d inhaled. “Lead me to 'er!” he quipped, his cough transforming into a chuckle.

It wasn’t a long walk to where she was slumped on her side. Finn leaned down and shook her shoulder gently. “Rae. Rae!” She moaned and said, “No, Finn!” again. He looked up at his dad sheepishly. “I dunno why she keeps sayin’ that.” John nodded, swallowing to stop a smirk from spreading across his face. 

They both leaned down to grab her arms and lift her up. She wasn’t aware enough to cooperate, and a slighter person than herself would have presented a challenge. John grunted as they got her up on her feet. “I’ll say this for yer Rae,” he grimaced. “She’s a sturdy lass.”

Finn winced at the words “your Rae.” She wasn’t his. At least … no, it was useless to wish for a thing that seemed impossible. Maybe … once they’d talked.

When Rae was arranged on the backseat of the car, Finn glanced back at the door to the rave, a niggling thought that he should let Chloe or Archie know where he was going bothered the back of his mind. He shook his head to clear it and got into the front seat, shutting the door and nodding at his father to drive.

* * *

They’d rolled the windows down for the ride home, and the fresh air seemed to have slightly stirred Rae out of her slumber. Enough for her to stagger out of the car, up the stairs, and into bed, anyway. Finn and his dad had taken off her jacket at the foot of the stairs. “Bloody hell, she’s got a long sleeve shirt on under her dress an’ all!” his dad had exclaimed when they’d gotten. “She must 'ave been boiling away!” Finn shrugged. He’d never thought about how many layers she wore before.

After guiding her in the general direction of the bed in the guest room, Rae fell face forward and sighed as she fell immediately back to sleep. Finn pulled her trainers off one at a time before covering her with the crisply ironed sheet. Just as he was about to close the door, he heard Rae whisper his name. He turned, hand still on the door knob and whispered back, “What is it, Rae?”

Instead of an answer, she burrowed her face deeper into the pillow and just mumbled, “No. No, Finn.”

* * *

Lying awake, staring at the sky as it lightened almost imperceptibly, a shade at a time, Finn’s jaw clenched. Why did she keep saying “No, Finn”? What did it mean? Why did he have to turn his head? If he hadn’t seen her run out, he wouldn’t have wanted to check on her. He could still be at the rave, kissing Chloe! … No. Not Chloe. That had been a mistake. But would he have felt it was a mistake, if Rae hadn’t come along and mixed everything up? If he’d never met her, he’d never have known that a girl could know as much as he did about music, or be funnier and more clever than any of his friends? Maybe he could have been content with Chloe, blissfully ignorant to any other options.

He turned over in frustration. He couldn’t fall asleep, and half his thoughts were bloody questions. Why did everything in his life have to feel so uncertain? He got up and put his favorite Smiths album on at the lowest volume he could still hear, and concentrated on the familiar notes until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

Rae opened her right eye, the one that wasn’t mashed into a pillow. Where was she? She remembered taking the blue pill, and dancing, and drinking, and did she … oh, fuck, she’d kissed Archie. And then … did … FUCK, Finn had kissed Chloe. And she ran away and fell and, then, nothing. Shouldn’t she be on the lawn? How did she get … she rolled over on her side and slowly opened her other eye. There was a school picture on the wall over the bedside table, of a tiny, little … Finn. Double fuck. Triple fuck. 

She sat up, and the hangover she had been ignoring washed over her. She dimly remembered how she felt the morning after her first binge, but this hangover left it in the shade. After dropping two hits of ecstasy AND drinking AND dancing AND falling on her face like a twat, she felt like the orangutan had eaten his sick, shat it out, boiled it twice, before pouring it back over her brain. She felt clammy and hot and cold and like she was going to jump out of her skin. The clock blinked eight-fifteen in red block numbers. She was overwhelmed by the urge to be in her own bed, at her own house. She had to leave, anyway; her mum was getting married today. Profiterole costume time. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced, breathing deeply for a moment before standing up. Her stomach rumbled. When had she last eaten? Lunch? She hadn’t had any dinn–oh, shit. Tix. Quadruple fuck.

Rae opened the door and glanced up and down the hall. She didn’t know what happened last night after she passed out, and she didn’t know if she wanted to know. She’d been a cow to her mum (like mother, like daughter) and blown off Tix. She didn’t want to make things with Finn even more awkward, and she  _had_  to make things right with Tix.

Sneaking down the hall, she winced as the top stair squeaked. She paused for a second, and held her breath. Then, she tiptoed down the stairs, thankful they were carpeted. At the front door, she grabbed her jacket and slowly turned the knob, so she wouldn’t make a sound. Outside, she pulled the door closed as silently as she could. She exhaled her relief, and turned to walk home.

* * *

Finn was in the kitchen, making tea and nervously waiting for Rae to wake up. He put two slices of bread in the toaster and pressed the lever, gearing himself to go upstairs and knock on the door to the guest room. Just then, he heard a muffled click and looked out the window, only to see Rae sneaking out, hand holding her forehead like she was afraid her brains might leak out if she took it away. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He could run after her like a knobhead, but she looked in no state to be chased after and talked to. He’d leave it for another time. Yet again.

Just then, the toast sprang up, startling Finn. He sighed, dropped both pieces on a plate and spread them with butter and jam. Then, he took the plate upstairs with a mug of tea, and gently knocked on the door next to his. 

“Dad? You up? I made you some toast.”


End file.
